


One Day More

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Kinktober2019 [30]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breast Worship, Clint Barton Feels, Established Relationship, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Kinktober, M/M, Multi, Stockings, WinterWidowHawk, past-Steve/Bucky/Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Clint hates Halloween. A lot. It's the worst.





	One Day More

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon - I don't think it was an anon but fuck if I can find the request now - who wanted winterwidowhawk and breast worship/ stockings.
> 
> Tomorrow is the last day!!!!!!! We're almost there!!!!  
Super huge kudos to everyone/anyone who has plowed through this month with me!!!
> 
> Now beta read by the amazing Ro!!!!!

* * *

* * *

Clint had just finished his shower when Natasha and Bucky showed up.

He stumbled into a pair of briefs - not the awesome, kind of silky-smooth purple ones he had planned to wear that night, but instead the closest pair available, which were of course boring, white cotton - and hurried to let them in.

And then, of course, he stood there in the open doorway of his apartment and stared at them, mostly naked, because… 

Because Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanov were fucking unbelievably gorgeous, and Clint couldn’t  _ help _ but stare.

That was on the regular. 

Tonight was not the regular. 

Tonight was some themed Halloween party they were dragging him to. The theme being ‘Sexy Costumes’, which wasn’t much of a theme, in Clint’s opinion, but then again, Clint hated Halloween, and dressing up and parties in general, so…

Bucky laughed at him, and gave Clint a gentle push backwards, inside his own apartment, and Natasha followed them in and closed the door behind them.

“What are you,” Bucky asked, warm palm drifting down to tease at the waistband of Clint’s briefs, “a sexy baby?”

Clint had to swallow, had to clear his throat, had to remind himself that breathing was a  _ thing _ he needed to do.

“Uh, no. I just finished in the shower. Not dressed yet.” Whole sentences. Clint was proud of himself.

Natasha smirked and leaned into Bucky’s side, her clear gaze sharp as she looked Clint over.

“Too bad. This is great.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to just wear the briefs and nothing else, but as gone as Clint was for Natasha and Bucky… he wasn’t about to set foot outside of his apartment this under-dressed.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Clint offered instead. “It’ll just take a few minutes for me to finish up.”

“We’re fine,” Natasha answered for the both of them. “Go finish getting dressed.”

“Wait.” Bucky caught Clint’s waistband again, and used it to reel him in. He smirked up at Clint and then kissed him.

It was deep, with lots of tongue and a bit of teeth, and it left Clint breathless and flushed.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“Hey,” Clint managed, before Natasha was tugging him down for a - greeting? - kiss of her own.

And then they let Clint go, watching him with dark eyes while he forced himself to go back to his bedroom and finish getting dressed.

Clint got dressed in a hurry, glad that it was nothing complicated. Pants, suspenders, socks, boots, helmet.

He gave himself a cursory look in the mirror, decided that he was as good as he was going to get without serious intervention, and went back out to find Bucky and Natasha.

They had settled on his couch, Bucky in one corner and Natasha on his lap, and they were looking at something together on her phone.

It made him freeze, taking the two of them in, how beautiful and perfect and  _ whole _ they looked together.

It boggled the mind why they were bothering with him when they had each other, and- and even if they both wanted more than each other, wanted to bring a third person into their whole unfucking fairly amazing lives, Clint didn’t understand why it was  _ him _ .

Then again, this was only their second… maybe third, date.

Two weeks ago, Clint had been dragged out to the bar with Sam and Steve after work, the bar that Natasha owned and her husband, Bucky, served as the bartender. And, well, Clint had done a hell of a lot of staring and pathetic flirting, and one thing - Natasha’s hand on his ass - had led to another - Bucky’s tongue in his mouth - and he’d gone home/upstairs with them and spent the night getting thoroughly and athletically fucked.

Still, Clint didn’t really count it as a date - it hadn’t been pre-arranged, for one thing, and, well, they hadn’t even known his name until Bucky was balls-deep in Clint and Natasha pushed Clint’s mouth off her clit to ask him what the hell his name was.

Clint wasn’t  _ great _ at dating - but he figured knowing each other’s names was kind of a prerequisite.

So, by his count, date number one was three days later, when Clint had the day off work and he met Bucky and Natasha at the park, and the three of them played frisbee with Clint’s dog - making Lucky’s  _ life, _ as he wore himself out and then got petted and spoiled by three people - and, well, after that, they all went back to Clint’s place and had sex that was so amazing it still - a week later - made Clint shiver to think about.

Sam said the first night counted as a date. Steve just laughed and kept telling Clint to keep himself hydrated because he had, apparently, been in Clint’s shoes before,  _ years ago _ , before he met Sam and the two of them fucked off into the sunset together.

Which… Clint totally got what Bucky and Natasha would see in Steve. And maybe… maybe Clint was some kind of half-assed imitation of the man, a shadow of what they had had, and… Hell, it was pathetic, but Clint was gonna take whatever he could get with these two.

Including this no-doubt-awful Halloween party.

“You’re a sexy firefighter.” Bucky looked delighted by Clint’s costume choice.

Natasha, however, raised a critical eyebrow.

“Clint,” she said with a slight smirk, “you  _ are _ a sexy firefighter.”

He blushed, because he was apparently twelve when faced with these two.

It was half-assed, sure, because all he’d done was grab his gear from the station at the end of his shift and bring it home, but… Clint hated Halloween. He wouldn’t be doing  _ anything _ except sitting at home and drinking with Lucky and sharing pizza with his best friend while they watched reruns of  _ Dog Cops _ … except for Natasha and Bucky.

“Well, what are you two supposed to be?” he gestured at them. He’d been trying to figure out their costumes since he first saw them, and he was still struggling to come up with who or what they were supposed to be.

Natasha was wearing white stockings, beat-up brown boots, some kind of apron-looking dress and nothing else. Her breasts were barely covered, and the apron dress thing left a lot of her strong thighs exposed. Her hair was pulled into two braids on either side of her face, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup aside from a few very obviously fake freckles.

“Raggedy Ann?” he guessed.

Bucky laughed. Natasha looked offended.

“She’s her favorite literary heroine,” Bucky said, because he had a master’s in comparative literature that he made fun of himself for having.

Clint stared at her again. Their dates - however many they had had - had been full of a  _ lot _ of sex. But also a lot of talking, and laughing, and touching. Clint already knew more about the two of them than he’d known about Penny, his last girlfriend, who he’d dated for four months before she’d taken all of his cash and his  _ car _ and skipped town.

“You’re sexy Anne of Green Gables?” It felt… so very, very wrong to even say those words.

But Natasha just preened and smoothed down her apron dress thing, and Clint had to roll his eyes.

It was just so  _ wrong _ .

He immediately wondered if that was also the key to Bucky’s costume - maybe he was some kind of sexy Gilbert Blythe? Natasha had been over the moon when Clint had not only known who Anne of Green Gables was, but had confessed to reading the entire series including  _ Rilla of Ingleside _ .

But there was no way Bucky was sexy Gilbert Blythe.

For one thing, Gilbert Blythe didn’t wear a top hat. Or that weird chin beard that Bucky had actually shaved his own beard into, getting rid of his mustache and leaving his well-groomed facial hair just hugging his jawline in a really awful look that he still somehow managed to pull off. Mostly.

Aside from the awful beard and top hat, Bucky had on black booty shorts that left his goddamn amazing legs almost entirely exposed, and some kind of jacket that looked like a tailcoat. And nothing else, leaving his tattooed chest and pierced nipples visible and entirely on display for Clint’s thirsty as fuck self to admire.

“Oh my fucking  _ god _ ,” Clint groaned as he realized, as he looked over Bucky’s face again and saw that his hair had been pulled up into a bun, under the hat. “You’re sexy Abraham Lincoln.”

Bucky’s grin was bright and infectious. Even Natasha smirked again.

“If I’d known I was supposed to be somebody cool, I would have, you know… done something else,” Clint apologized.

“You’re perfect,” Natasha insisted, rising from Bucky’s lap in a single, graceful motion that reminded Clint of the last time she’d been in his apartment on Bucky’s lap.

She stepped in front of Clint and tugged on his suspenders playfully until he leaned down to kiss her again.

By the time Clint had to pull away and  _ breathe _ , Natasha had pinched his nipples into sharp pricks of pain-pleasure, and Clint had discovered that she absolutely wasn’t wearing anything under the apron-dress except for the stockings.

“We should probably go,” he managed to say, lips against her hair, looking at Bucky on the couch who seemed perfectly content to just watch Clint and his wife paw at each other.

Bucky grinned, lopsided and cocky and mischievous. That look did things to Clint. Things that he really, really liked.

“That eager to go to a party?” he asked Clint.

Clint gave him a look.

When they had first asked him to go with them to the party - Sam and Steve’s party - Clint had tried to bow out, had been on the verge of volunteering for an extra shift at the station because he had avoided Sam and Steve’s party for  _ years, _ and his tolerance for drunk, handsy assholes was at an all-time low. But Natasha had promised they could leave as soon as he wanted, had promised both she and Bucky would be sober enough to make sure Clint was railed into next week. So he had agreed.

“What if,” Natasha kissed Clint’s jaw, then bit at it until he groaned and grabbed her ass. “What if we told you there wasn’t a party?”

“There is a party,” he pointed out. The damn flyer Steve had drawn was on his fridge in the next room.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed. “But what if we kind of had our  _ own _ party?”

Clint was having a hard time following what Bucky was saying. Especially since one of Natasha’s hands had migrated to the inside of his pants, and was currently palming his dick over the white briefs that he had kept on.

“Huh?” he managed.

Natasha laughed at him and kissed him again, until Clint was breathless and dazed and her lips were full and dark and wet and gorgeous.

“James and I put in our matching nipple rings,” she said, words puffs of heat against Clint’s over-stimulated mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“That’s the idea,” Bucky said, finally getting up from the couch and joining them. He threaded one hand through Clint’s hair and tilted his head close, kissing him with the kind of possessive, confident ease he had since their very first kiss.

Clint melted into it.

Bucky kissed his way across Clint’s face, his cheek, his jaw, his ear. He bit down a little sharply, until Clint gasped, and then soothed it with his tongue before caressing the shell of Clint’s ear with his lips.

“Natasha’s stockings are crotchless,” he whispered, as if he was sharing some great secret. “Want her to ride your dick?”

“Fuck, yes. Please.  _ Please _ .”

-o-

The next morning, when Clint woke up with his arms full of Natasha and his mouth full of her hair and discovered that Bucky was making them  _ breakfast _ , he had to admit that Halloween maybe wasn’t the worst day of the year, after all.

-o-

  
  
  



End file.
